


Missing you

by itsnotlove



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: ):, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Crying, M/M, Vomiting, general sadness, next tag's a spoiler, out of place laughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:17:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/pseuds/itsnotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking up can be difficult, especially if they're your everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing you

He sits in the park, looking at the brightly coloured sky as if he can’t see it. He’s been here for a long time now, paying no mind to the nervous glances he’s been getting from the locals. His fingers are cold, numb, and it makes it hard for him to strike up the lighter. After a few attempts, it ignites, but all he does is stare at it dumbly before remembering the cigarette hanging loosely in his lips.

 

He hurts so much that he doesn’t hurt at all. It feels as though he’s swimming through the air, like it’s too thick to breathe. He’s drowning but he doesn’t care, he only wishes it were in a more literal sense.

 

 _‘Nothing matters now.’_ He feels more than thinks, puffing absently on the cigarette. _‘Without_ Him _…’_

It had been two days since the breakup, and he hadn’t moved since. He was slightly dehydrated and his head throbbed, but he didn’t care to get another bottle of water. He was waiting for death, or oblivion. It wouldn’t surprise him to know that he’d become one with the park bench he was sitting on.

 

Nothing mattered, there was no point to anything. Not when he’d fucked everything up so _royally_ that _He’d_ left. He’d thought that it was an impossibility whilst simultaneously believing he wasn’t good enough for _Him_. His insides were raging, churning with contradicting thoughts, so he was sure that he’d brought this on himself.

 

**_“I can’t do this with you anymore.”_ **

****

The cherry of the cigarette burns his fingers, forcing him to drop it. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed it burning further and further down, but the slight pain had been a welcome distraction from his memories despite being a memory in itself.

 

What was he supposed to do now? He didn’t know if he could even stand, let alone live the way he once had. He knew that _He_ would be fine.

 

 _He’d_ move on.

 

 _He’d_ smile.

 

 _He’d_ make messes and somehow clean them up.

_He’d_ smile again, and it would be genuine.

 

 _He’d_ live without him.

_He’d_ forget him.

 

 _He_ had been everything to him. He’d changed himself, if only slightly, to fit the relationship a little more. He wasn’t resentful, no, he’d wanted to change. _He_ made him want to change, to be a better person… but it hadn’t been enough.

 

He wanted to die; to escape into the all-consuming darkness that seemed to fill his heart. His body physically ached from it, and he had never once in his life felt as fragile as he did now.

 

Did that mean that his entire existence was dependant on whether or not _He_ loved him? He would have laughed had his mouth not been as dry as it was. If only _He_ knew, would he have stayed? Would he have wanted _Him_ to stay out of pity or a sense of duty?

 

Of course not. He wanted to be loved and treasured, not seen as a burden.

 

He opened his eyes, once again disappointed to realise that this wasn’t a dream and that he wasn’t going to wake up in their bed with sheets and warm skin sprawled out on top of him.

 

**_“I’m moving out, my stuff’s already packed.”_ **

****

It _hurt._ Everything _hurt_ and he wished that his vocabulary was large enough so that he could find a more fitting word to describe it. _He_ was his soul, and when _He_ left, _He_ left him an empty, hollow husk.

 

Even fighting and exchanging cruel words would be better than this, but _He’d_ disappeared completely. Maybe _He’d_ gone somewhere with someone, maybe _He_ was rebounding at this second.

 

He dry-retched, the taste of acid burning his throat. The mere _thought_ of _Him_ being with someone else was too much. He’d do anything, anything! Anything to have _Him_ come back!

 

Standing up too quickly, it felt as though he’d stepped on needles. The combination of that unexpected pain and the dizziness he felt from two days of sitting motionless forced his knees to buckle, and his head hit the ground.

 

The dirt was cool on his face and he considered staying there. Maybe he could suffocate himself? Probably not, but you can’t blame a man for dreaming. Putting his weight onto his hands, he slowly pushed himself up.

 

**_“I’m sorry.”_ **

****

He hit the ground again. All of his strength had been zapped out of him, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to move again. His breathing was shaky, but if he really concentrated then he’d be able to-

 

**_“We were stupid to think it’d work.”_ **

****

His body trembled violently, a choking sound coming from deep in his throat. It hurt, it hurt, it _hurt,_ and it would never _stop_ hurting because he could never _stop_ loving _Him._ He didn’t want to exist in a world where he _didn’t_ love _Him!_

**_“Please don’t look at me like that.”_ **

****

No, _fuck Him. He_ could leave, but _He_ couldn’t stop his love. _He_ didn’t have the right! He could fucking love _Him_ even if _He_ hated it!

 

Who cared if he hated it! At least _He’d_ feel _something_ for him then!

 

“Fuck… you.” The words came out harsh and dirty, only barely above a whisper. “Fuck you!”

 

This time it had been loud enough to force the schoolgirls nearby to hurry away. He laughed, the sound scratchy and bitter, into the dirt.

 

This was where he belonged. He’d be okay with it as long as he loved _Him._ That would be enough.

 

He’d get up, go home, and learn to say _His_ name again without breaking down.

 

It was possible, people broke up all the time and it rarely ended with one sobbing helplessly into the dirt. It would be fine, he just had to stop fucking crying. If he could stop crying, then he could move forward, move to greater heights, maybe convince _Him_ to come back. They could live together in a better apartment, and he’d make _Him_ bentos and not care if _He_ teased him for it.

 

Maybe learn to make Miso soup? _He_ seemed like _He_ might like it, maybe.

 

He’d work less as well, and spend all of his time with _Him._ He’d never let _Him_ go again, never let _Him_ out of his sight.

 

**_“Izaya…”_ **

****

He couldn’t do it.

 

He needed Shizuo.

 

He needed him more than air and water and anything else on this planet.

 

He’d die without him, he knew it. He wanted him back so badly he couldn’t breathe, and he felt his stomach churning again. Acid pooled in his mouth as he heaved, that fucking voice swimming in his head.

 

**_“Izaya, hey! Izaya!”_ **

****

It hurt. Everything hurt.

 

“Oi! Fucking- Hey! Shit!”

 

Large, warm hands pulled Izaya slowly off the ground, forcing him to face Shizuo. Worried eyes travelled all over him, a small frown on his lips.

 

“Sh-izu-chan?” Izaya started, lips barely moving. They were almost blue now, and struggling to form anything other than a hiss.

 

“The _fuck_ are you doing?!” Shizuo cursed, pulling Izaya into a near-crushing embrace. “Do you wanna die, huh!? The fuck are you doing out here? You’re so fucking cold, how long have you been here?”

 

Izaya stiffened, not wanting to look as pathetic as he felt. Though he said nothing, Shizuo understood.

 

“You never left…? After I…” _Broke up with you._

Izaya shook his head very slightly, still unsure of what to do or say. He clung to Shizuo’s vest as tightly as he could, hopeful that he could force him to stay.

 

“’Zaya, do… you love me?” Shizuo finally asked, moving to sit on the bench. Izaya clung to him even tighter, not wanting to respond. He’d never said it, despite hearing it thousands of times from his then boyfriend.

 

If he said it, Shizuo would laugh. Or leave. Or kill him.

 

Shizuo couldn’t really love him, this had to be a joke or a trap.

 

That’s what he’d thought, but he wasn’t so sure now. He could feel Shizuo’s hands shaking as they held him, and looked at his face despite his better judgement.

 

Shizuo’s lips were pulled in a thin line and worry was etched across his features. His eyes were wide, hopeful- desperate.

 

Curling himself into Shizuo’s embrace a little more, he spoke very quietly and purposefully.

 

“…love… you.”

 

“Did you sa-”

 

“Don’t go. I… love you.”

 

Shizuo’s grip tightened on him again and he felt himself being lifted. The blonde walked quickly toward the park exit, pulling Izaya a little closer to him with each step.

 

“Shizu-chan…. Wher-”

 

“Home. We’re going home, Flea.” Shizuo replied, stopping at the traffic lights. He dipped his head to place a kiss on Izaya’s forehead, before continuing in a soft voice. “Just… say it once a year. I can’t… I need to know you love me, even if you don’t love me as much as I love you. Alright? I just… I’ll stay with you for fucking ever if you just tell me to.”

 

“Come home.”

 

The light turned green and Shizuo crossed it, ignoring the looks they were getting from the locals. Neither cared what they thought as long as they had each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! That was... that was pretty fucking depressing for the most part. I hope you enjoyed it though! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Oh! I don't know if it was explained clearly enough, but Izaya was smoking to try and remember Shizuo whilst also trying not to remember Shizuo. He couldn't quite decide which he wanted to do /: This was originally going to end very differently, but with what time of year it is... I... Yeah, this... I thought I might get a jump start on the happy endings. We're going to need them.


End file.
